A Selection of Original Songs, Scraps, Etc., by Ned Farmer/Impromptu
Impromptu.
On a young lady's expressing her intention of marrying a gentleman, who she herself confessed had few qualifications beyond the possession of four hundred and fifty pounds per annum.
Any young man good looking, whose income is clear
The sum of four hundred and fifty a year,
May address the fair Charlotte without any fear,
But he must have four hundred and fifty a year.
She says, and methinks the assertion sounds queer,
All depends on four hundred and fifty a year,
That if a large family folks are to rear,
It makes a hole in four hundred and fifty a year.
Says, few joys are by Providence granted us here,
But grow out of four hundred and fifty a year,
That connubial horizons at all times are clear,
If backed by four hundred and fifty a year.
That the heart's warmest throb, or affection's fond tear,
Are as naught to four hundred and fifty a year,
Through the ocean of life no fond couple can steer,
Save the freight is four hundred and fifty a year.
Now I rather imagine a woman's heart dear,
That is bought by four hundred and fifty a year;
Possessors of incomes, I pray you don't see her,
Or God help your four hundred and fifty a year.
Yet, faith! I'll be candid, take courage—draw near,
She's well worth four hundred and fifty a year;
I love her myself, but I cannot tell where
To get hold of four hundred and fifty a year.
So my chance is over, as things now appear,
And all through four hundred and fifty a year!
Still heaven await her; tho' mind you, up there
They heed not four hundreds and fifties a year!